Any Girl But Her
by diamond-helen
Summary: She loves him, he looks right through her. Or does he see more than she thinks?


She hunched lower in her chair and stared hard at the page of her book as the front door opened. She ignored the tears that rolled down her cheeks at the sound of his low, sensual voice, and the breathy giggle that responded. But she couldn't fight the urge the twist in her chair and sneak a glance at the pair as they headed up the stairs, a strong arm round a slim waist, coppery curls brushing his skin, a coy duck of her head as he whispered something to her with a smirk.

Hermione sighed, the ignored tears now dripping onto the page of her book. Almost every Friday and Saturday night he went out, and brought a different woman home. Some were tall and willowy, other athletic and muscular, others again plumper and curvy. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. He didn't have a type, it seemed, unless that type was any girl but her.

She had tried everything to get him to notice her. She had stopped lounging around in baggy tops and sweat pants, choosing more form-fitting things. She had worn nicer outfits to work, hoping that he would notice either at breakfast or dinner. She made his favourites when it was her turn to cook, deliberately brought up topics she thought would interest him in an attempt to draw him into conversation. She had even tried being the kind of girl he spent his weekends with, going home with men from bars, trying to forget him even as she longed for him to see the woman she was, not the girl she'd been. After a few mornings coming home in last night's clothes and being greeted by puzzled stares from Harry and Ron, sorrowful looks from Remus and disinterest from _him_ she stopped trying altogether. If he entered a room she left it, she sat as far away from him as she could when she couldn't avoid him. Not being there at all, never laying eyes on him, was better than being looked through and ignored by the man she loved. If he had seemed to dislike her, had treated her with the cold politeness he did Molly Weasley, she could have coped, but he never seemed to notice she existed at all.

She heard his door shut two floors up and stood slowly, knowing she could get to her room unnoticed now. She loved him, and longed for happily ever after, but would have settled for one night in his arms, for being his focus just for an hour or so. It seemed that wish was granted to so many, to any girl but her.

He glanced over his shoulder as he led the pretty witch, Millie, no, Molly, or was it Meg, upstairs. The library door was ajar, and a light flickered within. He frowned to himself as he imagined Hermione sat in her favourite chair. Her legs would be curled under her, book resting on her knee, her fingers absently caressing the page as she read. How he longed to be one of those books, to feel her fingers dance across his skin as they did the pages.

Sirius shook his head clear of his thoughts and whispered to Molly, he was pretty sure her name was Molly, smirking as she blushed. She was sweeter than the jaded, predatory women he usually came home with, the kind he avoided as they had a tendency to cling, but her curls and the light in her eyes had been impossible to resist, reminding him of _her_. As he closed the door to his room behind them and gently undressed her he realised he was wrong. Her scent was too flowery, it didn't have the spicy tones _hers_ did. The long copper curls needed to be darker, brown with streaks of honey and gold. The big eyes that gazed up at him as he lay her gently on his bed were too hazel, lacked the warmth and depth of the rich chocolate eyes he longed for. His own eyes slid shut as he thrust into the woman beneath him, imagining another, similar and yet so different. As he had countless times before he bit his lip as he came, stopping himself from crying a name that was definitely wrong, _her _name. As he rolled his weight off the woman in his bed, dropping a absent-minded kiss on her lips before settling to sleep he wondered why he did it, why he gave himself, over and over, to any girl but her.

She glanced over her shoulder as he walked into the kitchen next morning. His heart ached at the sadness that flashed through her eyes, he longed to hold her in his arms, to make that hurt go away, even though he knew he caused it. He wasn't stupid, he knew it upset her that he ignored her, but he couldn't let himself be drawn into her, if he talked to her, laughed with her, teased her he would end by telling her how he felt, and while it broke his heart to see her hurting it paralysed him with fear to imagine her eyes cloud with shock and disgust at the idea of him loving her.

She tried not to care, she really did. She ignored the pain that flared up inside her when he entered the room without a word, tried not to think of the cheery greeting he would have for any of their other housemates. She focused on the toast she was buttering, but when he reached across her for a cup without speaking, without asking her to pass it, as if she was as insubstantial as a ghost, she couldn't take it. Although she managed to choke back her sob a tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away and prayed he wouldn't notice, that he wouldn't take this moment to start seeing her.

He picked up a cup from in front of her, his eyes averted, trying to ignore the enticing way she smelled, a scent which was purely her. He heard a strangled noise, and looked at her in time to see her brush a tear from her cheek. Suddenly his fear of rejection was unimportant, he couldn't bear to see her cry.

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. He sighed gently, he had never felt anything so perfect as having this woman in his arms. Her single tear multiplied into many as he held her to him.

"Hush, sweetheart, I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm here, I've got you, I won't let you go." He murmured softly to her. She raised her eyes to his, confusion clear in her glance. She gasped in shock as she registered the love shining in the depths of his blue eyes.

"Sirius?" She asked softly, not fully understanding what had happened.

"Shh." He didn't say another word, rather he lowered his head and kissed her gently, sighing against her lips as she responded gently. As they lost themselves in the kiss Sirius realised that nothing and no-one had ever felt so right, so perfect. And he knew in that moment that she was his one, that he would never want or need any girl but her.

_A/N This popped into my head and demanded writing. A little different from usual, let me know what you think._


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